Out of Darkness
by MildeAmasoj
Summary: Merlin was caught by the Sarrum and thrown in the same well where Morgana had been for the past three months. Two months later, Morgana wonders how she can at the same time hate a man so much, but still trust him so blindly. AU set between season 4 and 5! Pre-Merlin/Morgana. Rated T for violence and torture (not between Merlin and Morgana, though). Further warnings in each chapter.
1. Prologue

**Category:** Gen/Pre-Het (Canon AU)

**Characters/Pairings:** Merlin, Morgana, Aithusa, eventual Merlin/Morgana

**Rating/Warnings:** T for torture and violence

**Summary:** Merlin was caught by the Sarrum and thrown in the same well where Morgana had been for the past three months. Two months later, Morgana wonders how she can at the same time hate a man _so much_, but still trust him so blindly.

**A/N:** This was written for The Chronicles of Camelot challenge, an extension of a drabble.

Set after season 4, about six months after "The Sword in the Stone, Part 2". My headcanon is that Morgana was captured by the Sarrum not long after Aithusa saved her. When Merlin disguised as Emrys blocked her magic, it stayed locked for some time and that made Morgana vulnerable. So she was captured. (This was included in the first version of this story, which is lost forever due to stupid technology. Well have to make do with my hurried explanations.)  
The events that led to Merlin being imprisoned will be explained. With time. The first part of this story is in 'layers': each chapter will unravel a part of the past. Then we'll go back to the present towards the end of the story. It's much easier than what it might seem, really.

Important: the prologue is set in the 'present', the first chapters after it are set two months earlier, then at a point the story will be set in the present again. Just to make things clear:

**Prologue:** Morgana has been in the well for five months. Merlin for two.  
**Chapter 1:** Morgana has been in the well for three months. Merlin has just arrived.

What Morgana knows in the present (prologue) she didn't necessarily know before (chapter 1).

Thanks to MagicGirl41 for looking this over for me. Any mistakes are mine. I love you, MG!

Now, I hereby declare my rant over!

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**Prologue**

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_So, yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can also be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and, well, strangely easy to mistaken for loathing._

_–Yvaine, Stardus__t_

* * *

The pitch-black darkness was suffocating.

Morgana knew, even if she couldn't see anything, that the space she was in was far too small to move. Especially since she wasn't the only occupant of the 'prison' — if the bottom of a dried well could even be called that way.

Her shoulders had gone numb, having had her arms tied over her head for so long, and her wrists hurt where the shackles had dug into the flesh as she struggled, to no avail, to get free. She had been there for what she guessed were more or less five months.

The young witch sighed and shifted to make herself as comfortable as possible. Moving, she hit something — or better, _someone_ — warm. It was Aithusa, who laid beside her sleeping, restrained just as barbarously as she was.

Morgana felt her heart swell with love — something she had once believed she would never feel again — at the thought of her little dragon, the beautiful and pure creature who, for a long time, had been her only friend, her beacon of light in those dark times. Now, she could no longer imagine a life without it — _her_, the sorceress reminded herself. Aithusa was a female, as she had found out recently, thanks to Merlin.

_Merlin_. Arthur's loyal servant. The bubbly boy, now a battle-hardened man, who used to bring her flowers to make her smile and had kept her secret so many years ago. The very same man who had poisoned her, _betrayed her_, even when she regarded him as a _friend_ — and currently, her only companion besides Aithusa.

The high priestess could hear the sound of his soft, rhythmical breathing as he slept. He was tired, even more than she was. And not unjustifiably so — the poor man had, after all, been tortured for hours to protect _her_ just two days before.

Morgana wanted to laugh at the thought of their current predicament. If someone had told her that she would one day be trapped with _Merlin_, of all people, and forced to get along with him, only a few months before she would have laughed at them. But had they told her that in the future she would have also been willing to offer her life for his — and that he would have sacrificed his to save hers — she would have probably incinerated them on spot.

And yet, that was the reality, as ridiculous as it sounded.

They had formed a friendship of sorts, actually, the kind that is born due to necessity and instinct of survival more than real affection — that had later blossomed into an unlikely camaraderie. Merlin had been there for almost two months, and with time she had grown to be grateful of his presence.

It also helped that they were kin. Both creatures of the Old Religion, they shared the heavy and precious burden of magic. Of course, at first it had hurt — finding out that Merlin had been born with magic and hadn't told her _anything_ when he needed him the most — but, with time, she had understood his reasoning to keep his own secret, even though she didn't agree with his choice.

Had he told her before about his magic, would things have been different? If so, would they have been better? It wasn't such a crazy hypothesis, was it? She could have been happy.

_No, stop it_, Morgana chastised herself. _There's no point in crying over spilled milk._

She had other things to think about, more important things, like a plan to escape. They couldn't use their magic, the Sarrum had made sure of that, having put anti-magic manacles around their wrists. _Cold iron_, Merlin had said. Apparently, Gaius had taught him about that particular metal and its abilities to keep a magic user from using their powers.

And yet, Merlin had managed to do it. He had lit a small flame, less than a week ago, to give her some hope — she would never admit it to him, but it had worked wonders. Using magic had hurt him, tremendously so for such a simple spell, but he had done it. Meaning that he truly was powerful, even more than she was — but that wasn't a surprise by then.

The woman knew that her _friend_ (that was what they were now, wasn't it?) was _Emrys_, the sorcerer she had hunted for since the Cailleach had told her his name and his role in her destiny. Oh, the anger she had felt when she had found out. He had told her himself, before the first week of his imprisonment had ended. She would have found it strange — his sudden willingness to reveal his secrets — had she not known that he had already lost too much to care anymore.

After that, he had also confessed that he had used a spell to block her magic when she had taken over Camelot, and that had been the ultimate cause of her abduction by the Sarrum.

Morgana wondered how she could at the same time hate a man _so much_, but still trust him so blindly. And care about him.

She would have snorted loudly, had she not known that it would have awakened Merlin and Aithusa. Oh, _the irony_. Morgana Pendragon caring about Emrys's sleeping habits. She almost didn't believe it.

The witch moved again to ease the strain on her sore muscles, and doing so, accidentally brushed her now-short hair with her arm. _They _had cut it to sell it, and she couldn't help but be grateful that those monsters hadn't done anything worse — not for lack of trying, though. Again, she had to remind herself to thank Merlin for it when he felt better.

Morgana let out a long, tired sigh as she thought about the last months. The situation had certainly changed her deeply. Her beliefs had been shaken to the core, and the fortress of hatred and bitterness she had built to shield her heart in the past years had slowly crumbled to dust, leaving her defenceless against emotions and feelings she had long since forgotten.

Slowly, a small smile crept up on her face as she realised that maybe, just maybe, changing wasn't necessarily for the worst.

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**TBC.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited, and especially to those who reviewed! I'm so glad you liked the beginning. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, as well.**

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**Chapter 1**

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Tap.

_Two thousand, five hundred and eleven..._

Tap.

_Two thousand, five hundred and twelve..._

Tap, tap, tap.

_Two thousand, five hundred and thirteen; two thousand, five hundred and fourteen; two thousand, five hundred and fifteen..._

Morgana's foot kept thumping on the ground. It was a habit she had picked recently, trying to make as much noise as she could so that the silence wouldn't drive her mad. Three months in a dark pit, completely cut out from the rest of the world, were bound to be unhealthy.

The dragon didn't seem to mind the noise. It snuggled closer to her, as far as the chains would allow, and rested its head on her lap, seeking the warmth her body provided.

The witch wasn't sure if what she dreaded most were the times she was tortured, or moments like this — a pretence of tranquility, the calm before the storm. They subconsciously made her feel safe, only for her hopes to be crushed as soon as one of the Sarrum's thugs appeared to take her out.

Morgana shook her head to keep herself from thinking about it. She still had a couple of days, maybe a whole week, before the next _unpleasant _interrogation came. Really, she should be thankful that she was left alone — as used as she was to torture, she still didn't look forward to it.

The fact was, living at the bottom of a dried well was so incredibly, utterly _boring_ that she feared the day when she would beg the little dragon to kill her was nigh — she didn't like the idea of getting burnt to a crisp (being a magic user and all), but if it came to that she probably wouldn't mind. And it wouldn't be because she wanted to end her own suffering, but for a change in _routine_.

Of course, boredom had never lasted too long in her life.

The high priestess should have expected that just when her life was getting predictable — interrogation led to her not answering, which led to torture (and still not answering), until they tired of hearing her screams and dragged her back into her prison — _of course_ something unexpected would happen.

Why she was surprised was a mystery. Nothing in her life had ever been linear, not even close, so why had she thought that this time might be different?

Well, maybe something _was_ different. So her surprise was justified, in a way. It might probably have to do with the fact that the 'unexpected something' was not only unexpected, but it also shook her to the core and made her question everything she had thought and done until that moment.

For how could she have known that the Sarrum would bring her a companion, of all things? And someone she once knew so well, at that. Someone she had once cared about — maybe even _loved_, but that wasn't something she was ready to admit to herself yet — and would have given her life for.

Morgana was still tapping her foot on the dirty ground when she heard the sound of hushed voices coming from the well's entrance. She froze in her place and looked up, unconsciously moving closer to her dragon.

Two of the Sarrum's thugs came down with the help of a thick rope.

The young witch was trembling — she wished she weren't, but it wasn't something she could really _help_ — but her fear was overcome by curiosity when she saw the unconscious form of a man thrown over the mercenary's shoulder.

The rogue tied the other man to the wall with heavy manacles, of the same kind that Morgana's were. _A sorcerer, then_, she realised. Whatever those cuffs were made of, they restrained her magic, and she doubted they were used on every captive.

Morgana waited until the thug left before trying to get as close as she could to her fellow prisoner.

His head hung over his chest, hiding his face from view, but she could see that he had thick, black hair and his tied hands were pale beneath the dirt and — was that _blood_? The poor man looked like he had travelled to hell and back, and Morgana was sure that he actually had, if he had been in the Sarrum's hands for more than a day.

She tried to move further but it was no use. Slumping defeatedly on the wall behind her, she huffed out an annoyed sigh. It was then that she noticed that the dragon had reacted to the stranger's presence.

The little white creature was doing its best to crawl over to the man, flailing and shuffling and whimpering mutely, and the utter despair in its clear blue eyes broke Morgana's heart. Did it know the man? Was he its owner?

The high priestess tried to wake the man, hitting his leg with her foot. It didn't matter that he could be hurt and in pain as long as he awakened, because that would most likely make her dragon — and consequently herself — feel better.

The man stirred in his unconscious state and shifted. He lifted his head slightly and tried vainly to move his hands. Morgana eagerly awaited the moment in which he would rise his head.

But when he did, she realised that nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of emotions that overcame her in the moment his tired eyes met hers and lit up with recognition. A soft gasp left his chapped lips. "Morgana?" he breathed, disbelief blossoming on his pale face.

The witch almost choked on his name in her shock, but replied to him in kind, with a "Merlin?" just as feeble.

As they scrutinised each other carefully, trying to understand what had just happened, Morgana couldn't help but wonder _how could it be_? How could _Merlin_, of all people, have ended up there? And why? Was it a coincidence? Destiny, fate, or another otherworldly power that hated her with just as much fervour?

She closed her eyes to calm her racing heart and focused on the matter at hand. If the Sarrum had gotten interested in Merlin, there had to be a motive, or else he would have just killed him off. If her reasoning was right, all the guesses led to one answer. But it couldn't be.

_It can't be it can't be please let me be wrong it can't be no no no he wouldn't have lied to me he was my friend—_

Morgana's heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest as her eyes snapped opened to find the servant's own staring back at her anxiously. She swallowed to soothe her parched throat, not wishing to speak in fear of being proved right, but knowing that she had to confirm her suspicions. "You have magic," she said, and although she meant to make it a question it came out more like a statement.

_Please deny it don't say I'm right please please please I beg you—_

It was barely a whisper that left her lips, but to Merlin, it seemed as if it were a horrid scream. His eyes widened to the point that the witch thought they would pop out of their sockets. His eyebrows drew into a frown, partly surprised and partly afraid, but soon his features relaxed into resignation. Merlin looked like he had nothing to lose anymore.

_Well, neither have I_, Morgana thought absentmindedly, too preoccupied with trying to keep at bay the oncoming panic attack.

_Please—_

The servant's lip curled in displeasure. He coughed to clear his voice and after a moment of hesitation, his expression morphed into one of apology and poorly hidden shame as he softly admitted "Yes, I do."

_—No..._

In the span of a heartbeat, what was left of Morgana's world collapsed around her.

* * *

**TBC.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited, and especially to those who reviewed! And anyway, some dialogues, finally! Yay! **

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**Chapter 2**

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The witch's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

The dragon had finally managed to reach Merlin and had snuggled close to him, falling asleep almost instantly. Weren't Morgana so distracted, she might have wondered why the creature would want to cuddle with mere servant. But now, she had other things to take care of.

She took a deep breath in order to calm her racing heart and swallowed. "How long?" she asked, and the quiver in her voice didn't surprise her.

Merlin diverted his eyes, biting his lip.

"How. Long," the witch pressed, jaw hardening and nostrils flaring. After all that had happened, her patience was running out.

The young man looked up but still didn't meet her eyes. "All my life," he whispered, perfectly aware of how much she would get angry at his words.

The witch's shoulders shook with rage. Had she been free, she would have tried to throttle the man. However, restrained as she was, she could only lunge forward, straining against the manacles, mindless of the pain the movement caused. "Why!" she shrieked. "Why didn't you tell me? I was your _friend_!"

Merlin felt vaguely nauseous when he heard Morgana's voice break on the last word and saw the wetness of her eyes. "I'm sorry. I am _so _sorry, Morgana."

The high priestess raised her knees to her face to hide her tears, and ground out through gritted teeth, "You can be sorry all you want, but what you did is unforgivable," at this her head snapped up. "I was scared, _terrified _of my own powers, and I confided in you. You said you didn't know how to help when you could have just showed me! I understand if you don't trust me now — it's mutual, believe me — but at the time I would have laid my head on the chopping block for you!"

Morgana's voice was raw after so much yelling, and she looked surprised after her last admission. True as it was, that was something she didn't wish to divulge. She swallowed and hugged her knees to her chest, in a blatant show of frailty she would have never allowed before her imprisonment.

The young man sitting in front of her felt his heart break at the sight. Yes, Morgana had done many horrible acts, but so had he. If there was anyone who could understand her perfectly, it was him. And she was right; his behaviour towards her when she was in Camelot was unforgivable. Yet, he wanted her to know his motives. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "I truly am. If there is anything I regret with my whole being, it's lying to you that day. You're right, you didn't deserve it. But I was afraid, even more than you, because I _knew_ what it felt like — to live in fear for something I was born with. I didn't want you to experience it, so I foolishly tried to deny the undeniable. I told myself that maybe the strange phenomena that were happening around you weren't due to magic but to something else, something not as dangerous. I was afraid _for_ you, not of you. And then, when you sought my help, I was afraid for myself. You were Uther's ward; if you were found out, there was a chance he would have you spared. But what if I was? He would have gladly tied me to the stake and enjoyed my screams as I burned. I _know_ — believe me, I do — that what I did was wrong and cowardly, but you need to understand that I didn't do it to _hurt_ you. Why would I? You were my friend, too."

Admitting it all to her had left him emotionally drained, and at first he hadn't even been sure it was the right course of action. Alas, he knew there was no avoiding the truth. There was something about Morgana that demanded honesty, and he suspected it was the knowledge that in her life she had already been told too many lies.

The woman stared at him with narrowed eyes, as if she wanted to look through him and see if he was lying. A small smirk appeared on her emaciated face. "And you cared so much for me that you chose to poison me at the first chance you got."

Merlin seemed horrified at her words, eyes widening and mouth hanging opened before he quickly sobered up. "I needed to eliminate the source of the spell," he explained, trying to keep up with the calm façade he had chosen to wear.

"And what does this have to do with me?" she inquired, her eyebrow raised in such a Gaius-like manner that it made his heart ache with nostalgia.

If there was anyone from Camelot the servant missed so much it physically hurt, it was his mentor, his father figure. Had he been more careful, he wouldn't have found himself in that situation. He hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye to the physician.

He also missed his other friends; Gwen, Gwaine, the other knights, Sefa. And then, of course, there was Arthur.

_Cerulean eyes flashed with hurt as his own widened in fear, but it lasted barely a moment before they filled with alarm. Merlin's world went black, the last sound he heard the echo of an anguished yell._

The warlock shook his head. There was no use thinking about what had happened; he had to take care of other things that were far more important now. Like Morgana's confusion at his explanation. Could it be that she didn't know about the sleeping spell?

"_You _were the source of the enchantement," he said. At Morgana's confused frown, he swallowed the lump in his throat and, ignoring the guilt crawling at his heart, he continued, "Morgause put a spell on you and made you the vessel of the sleeping spell. Everyone near you would fall asleep and never wake as long as you were alive."

The witch's face morphed into shock and then her eyes dropped down, her features twisting into agony. Merlin, for the first time in years, felt truly sorry for her. Even her sister had lied to her.

Morgana stayed quite after that. Maybe, the warlock mused, for now it was for the best.

* * *

Merlin had tried not to disturb his fellow prisoner, trying to occupy himself with something else — not that there was much to do there, but still, he had _tried_.

As soon as Aithusa woke up, she shifted even closer to him, looking up at him with her big blue eyes. He smiled down at her and nuzzled her with his leg, prompting her to lay her head on his thigh.

When Kilgharrah had lost sight of the young dragon, Merlin had feared the worst. He had lost all hopes of ever seeing Aithusa again but, much to his delight, he had obviously been wrong.

He decide it was time to break the silence. "Where did you find her?" he asked to Morgana.

The high priestess raised her head at his voice. "Who, the dragon? Actually, it found me. It's been a loyal companion in the last months. I owe it my life," she explained, looking with fond eyes at the white beast.

Merlin smiled. Aithusa had managed to break through the block of ice that was Morgana's heart. "It's a female. Her name is Aithusa, it means 'light of the sun' in the language of dragons," he revealed, not thinking about it twice. It still surprised him how easily it was talking to Morgana. It felt as though they were still in Camelot, talking about rescuing young Druids and magic, back then when everything was so much simpler.

"How do you know?" she asked, curios.

Merlin gulped. Should he tell her? Well, he might as well — what had he left to lose? "I hatched her. I am," he hesitated. "I am a dragonlord."

Morgana's eyebrow shot up. She had read about dragonlords in one of her books, and she had asked Morgause about them. "Aren't they supposed to be all dead? And I thought the power could only be passed from father to son," she said. After a moment of confusion, her eyes widened in realisation. "Your father...!"

"...Was a dragonlord, too. Yes. His name was Balinor, I met him shortly after Morgause brought you out of Camelot. He died in my arms to protect me. If only I weren't so useless with a sword..." he muttered, lost in grief and self-loathing.

He was shaken out of his musings when Morgana sighed quietly. "I know how it feels to lose a father. I'm sorry for your loss," she said, eyes watering as she thought of Gorlois.

Merlin hid the sob threatening to burst out of his throat with a chuckle. "Maybe magic isn't the only thing we have in common," he teased.

The witch smiled at him, and for the first time it was genuine. "Yes," she replied, "maybe it's not."

The heavy tension hanging in the air until that moment seemed to have loosened a bit. Silence fell in the well again, but this time it was almost... Comfortable.

At least until the moment was broken by noises coming from the entrance of their prison. They both raised their head to see one of the Sarrum's thugs staring back at them, while another was claiming down to get them up.

"The king wants to see you," the burly man said.

Merlin's confusion quickly turned into panic when Morgana's terrified eyes met his. What could scare her so much?

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**TBC.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who followed and favourited! And especially, I thank from the bottom of my heart everyone who reviewed! I'm sorry I couldn't reply to each one.**

**Anyway, this chapter turned out too long compared to the others, so I split it. The way I split it (just before a flashback) might seem strange, but that's the only way I could leave both chapters with a decent length. Sorry about that.**

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**Chapter 3**

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Morgana woke up abruptly, gasping in fear and pain.

Glancing at the little dragon, she sighed in relief when she noticed it was unharmed. She almost had a heart attack when her eyes fell on an unconscious Merlin, but then she remembered everything about the previous day and relaxed.

The last questioning had been particularly _unpleasant_. Maybe it was the Sarrum's presence, or maybe it was Merlin's — she didn't know why, but her tormentors had been rougher than usual. Of course, thanks to her natural magic — no restraints could keep it from flowing inside her — the wounds would heal too quickly to be healthy, and she would be in a great deal of pain as soon as the healing process started. It was not the first time it happened, and she feared it wouldn't be the last.

However, she realised that it had been Merlin's first torture session — the Sarrum's thugs called them 'questionings', but there was actually more beating than asking. They _demanded_ things, and it didn't matter if the prisoner answered or not, because they would get hurt anyway. If they answered, though, they wouldn't be beaten too harshly. Morgana felt sick at the thought that she had begun to know what to expect from those men.

A noise brought her attention back to Merlin. He was stirring, and by all the trashing she guessed he was either having a nightmare or he was hurt quite badly. The witch almost felt sorry for him. Even though they had been brought to separate chambers to be questioned, she had heard every single one of his screams — like he had hers. The Sarrum's mercenaries had showed more interest in him than her, excited for their new plaything.

_(should she feel grateful?)_

Well, if the small grunts of discomfort he was letting out were anything to go by, the man in question would indeed awaken soon.

Morgana wasn't surprised when he came to consciousness with a jolt, much like she had done. What they had been through was something bound to scar them forever (and not only physically).

The warlock's eyes travelled in a panicked haze around the well before falling on his nemesis-turned-companion. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it, resorting to try and wipe away the dried blood that had come out of his nose with his upper arm — the only part close enough to his face which he could move easily enough with his hands bound over his head.

Morgana didn't know if his powers would heal him as hers would, or at least make up for the lack of food and water. And no, that wasn't worry, just practicality — she didn't want to have to deal with the stench of a corpse in such a small space, thank you very much. She wasn't worried at all (or so she told herself).

The silence was getting annoying, and so she tried to break it. "You know what?" she said suddenly, voice rough from screaming. "If I get out of this, I promise I will never attack Camelot again. I don't care about the throne anymore. I just want to get as far as possible from that wretched place and finally be able to live in peace. If you'll let me, that is."

The former servant's eyebrows disappeared under his hair. "That was... unexpected," he muttered, not knowing if he should cry victory to the heavens or still be wary around the witch. He opted for the second. "Very unexpected. What brought it on?"

She shrugged. "Being imprisoned in here made me realise that I value my freedom and autonomy more than anything else. Anger, bitterness, hatred... they're feeble emotions, born out of fear and pain. Temporary. I spent years trying to take Camelot when I could have focused on so many other things. Like my magic, for example; I haven't sat down and learned a new spell in what feels like forever."

Merlin snorted. "You're not the only one, believe me. Trying to practice magic in Camelot is not only dangerous, but difficult, too. As a servant, I am rarely left alone and if I am, then I spend my free time asleep. It's a tiring job, especially when the queen isn't around to mollify the royal prat."

Despite his words, a small smile had formed upon his face at the thought of his friends. A sudden pang of nostalgia overtook him, and the grimace he wore didn't go unnoticed by Morgana.

"You miss them, don't you?" she asked softly, not unkindly, and her eyes betrayed a longing of her own — Merlin didn't dare voice it aloud, but he thought she missed Camelot as much as him.

"Of course I do. But it doesn't matter — I won't go back there, not after what happened," he explained gravely, blue eyes filling with melancholy.

Morgana instantly knew she had touched a sore spot, but curiosity got the better of her. "Do you feel like telling me?" she asked, knowing that, in spite of their attempted subtlety, there were few things they didn't know about each other by now. But still, sometimes people just wouldn't talk about their inner demons aloud. And Merlin was such a secretive young man — she wouldn't be surprised if he chose to keep silent on the matter.

A beat, and he opened his mouth to answer. "Arthur knows."

It was enough. Morgana instantly knew what he meant, and what it meant for him. Even if he managed to get out of the well, he would be a criminal in Camelot. "You _can't_ go back," she breathed, surprising herself by how much the thought unsettled her. _Of course_, she could relate with him — Camelot had once been her home, then for a short time it had been her domain, and then it had become a place she couldn't step in lest she be cut down by Arthur's knights.

"How did he find out?" she asked without preambles, too curious to be tactful.

Merlin didn't seem to mind. He let out a sigh, and his dirty hands curled into tight fists. "We were patrolling. Normally, Arthur would have sent a couple knights in his place, but this time I think he needed to get out of the castle — the last couple of months have been quite stressful, and Gwen suggested he leave Camelot. There were rumours about bounty hunters in our territory — as we found out later, they were mercenaries hired by the Sarrum — so I went with him to know more," he explained.

Morgana listened to his tale with wide eyes. Even if it wasn't surprising, she was worried for the mercenaries' closeness to her former home — there were many Druid camps in that territory, and she feared for her kin. Longing to know more, she urged Merlin to continue when he got lost in his memories.

Letting out a long sigh, he resolved to tell her everything. "At first, nothing seemed unusual; we were enjoying the view and the fresh air of the forest, exchanging tales with the knights. The bounty hunters took us by surprise."

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**TBC.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Even though I couldn't reply to your reviews, I really wish to thank who reviewed. The last chapter reached 14 reviews, for a total of 40! I'm ecstatic, thanks you so much! and thanks to everyone who favourited and followed. +100 follows, Yay!**

**This chapter begins with a flashback, which is the continuation of Merlin's narration of how his magic was found out from the last chapter. The flashback should have been in italics, but since it's quite long I decided to leave it as normal because a part too long in italics hurts my head. Enjoy! **

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**Chapter 4**

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Laughter echoed into the otherwise peaceful forest, accompanied by the sound of horses' hooves hitting the leafy ground.

"...and then," said Gwaine, pausing to stifle his laughter, "then he fell asleep on top of the barmaid. Half-naked, in the middle of fornicating, and he fell asleep! You should have seen the maid's face — so outraged that she slapped him awake!"

The others laughed in unison. They were having quite a good time — it had been long since they had gone out all together; the king, Merlin, and the four knights.

The warlock realised that he had truly missed these going-outs. Life was so busy in Camelot that they had forgotten how great it was to spend time together.

Seeing the joyful expression on his servant's face, Arthur turned to him to tease him about being a girl — _were you the maid Gwaine was talking about, Merlin?_ — but he never got the chance to say anything.

Bandits were riding towards them. _Too many_, Arthur mused. "Run! We're outnumbered!"

They split and went each on their way, rising their weapons high to fight whoever got in their path. Only Merlin stayed back to wait for the king, following him when he chose where to go.

The golden-haired man led them to a clearing, where a dozen of bandits stopped them.

Realising they couldn't run anymore, the two men jumped down from their horses. Merlin took out his sword — courtesy of the queen — and focused a spell on a branch to make it fall on the head of one of their opponents.

Arthur fought as valiantly as ever, and marvelled at his servant's progresses in sword-fighting.

Too busy fending off one of the bandits, he didn't see the other coming from behind him with a raised sword, ready to deal him a deadly blow. He closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to block the blade in time, and waited for the pain to come.

"_Gestillan!_"

Arthur's eyes snapped opened in surprise to find the sword just a breath away from his nose. Still frozen in place, he saw the bandit flying across the clearing and landing on a tree's trunk, unconscious.

Silence fell. A part of him knew that there was only one explanation for it, only one person who could have cast a spell to protect him. But he couldn't admit it to himself, not until he had the confirmation.

Feeling faint, he turned towards his servant. "Merlin?" he called, uncertainly, hoping his suspicions wouldn't be proven true. "What... Was that you?"

Merlin's eyes were so wide and fearful that no answer was needed.

Arthur's hurt squeezed painfully inside his chest. He felt beyond cheated, he felt... _Betrayed_. The blonde had trusted Merlin with his whole being, and he had turned out to be just like Morgana and Agravaine. A traitor.

But Merlin... He had used to magic to _save_ him, not to hurt him. Did it make him any different? Hadn't the younger man still betrayed his trust?

The men's eyes stayed locked for what seemed eternities. They were too distracted to notice two of the bandits getting up and stalking towards them.

Arthur was disarmed and restrained, but kept looking at Merlin and saw him get hit with the hilt of a sword. He would have screamed, but his mouth was covered by a hand. It didn't matter; he bit the hand and called for his friend, not caring about the recent reveal of his treachery. Merlin was every bit his friend as he had always been, magic or not.

"Merlin!" he yelled, with all the voice he could muster. The young man lifted hazy eyes to him and blinked, stunned by the hit, before those blue orbs disappeared under heavy eyelids.

Arthur was hit, too, and the last thing he saw before falling unconscious was the bandits putting iron manacles on Merlin's wrists.

The king would be awakened by the knights not long after to find his best friend already gone.

* * *

Morgana looked at her fellow prisoner sympathetically. "So... You don't know how Arthur reacted to your magic?"

Merlin shook his head. "He didn't get the chance to say or do anything. But... I'm sure, he looked more distraught than angry. And that's what worries me most. He has been betrayed by so many people already. I never wanted to be on the 'traitors' list," he said, looking sadly at his feet.

The woman felt sorry for him. She understood how he felt — when she lived in Camelot, she had often thought about how people would have reacted to her magic. Arthur's reaction had been one of those she feared most, because she used to care about him greatly. Had he tried to hurt her, she probably would have let him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Merlin shrugged and smiled, but his eyes were no less sad than earlier. "It's not your fault. It's the Sarrum's fault. He sent those mercenaries — Arthur thought them bounty hunters — in Camelot's territory, and they caught me. I would let Arthur find about my magic any day if it was to save his life, so there wasn't any other way it could have gone, really. But thank you. I'm glad you understand."

They didn't speak for a while after that.

On the verge of falling asleep, Morgana almost had a heart attack when Merlin suddenly whispered "I failed my destiny..."

She was confused. Was he delusional? "What are you talking about?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

He startled; apparently, he hadn't meant to say it aloud. Briefly wondering if lying would be a better choice, he discarded the idea and took a deep breath in order to get ready to spill another secret.

"During one of my first days in Camelot," he began, hands twitching nervously over his head, "I heard a voice calling my name over and over. Soon I realised that no one beside me could hear it, and that it was in my head. It was the dragon captured during the Purge — he had been trapped in a cave under Camelot."

"I've heard of it — _him_," Morgana interrupted him, mesmerised by the idea of such a majestic creature, a fully-grown dragon, having lived below her feet for so long. "I grew up hearing tales about dragons, and they all said he was the last one. Luckily, we also have Aithusa. But please, don't let me interrupt you."

Merlin smiled at her and continued to recount the event. "The dragon, whose name I later found out to be Kilgharrah, told me that I was destined to protect Arthur Pendragon. Of course, I was skeptical. Kigharrah must have gotten the wrong person, and especially the wrong Arthur — he was such a prat at the time! But he wouldn't change his mind. Do you remember Helen of Mora? And Mary Collins?" he asked, waiting for Morgana to nod in confirmation. "I managed to save Arthur because I realised there was something wrong with the song, and you nobles were all falling asleep. I made the chandelier fall on her, but she threw the dagger — which I slowed with magic, in time to save Arthur."

The woman in front of him smirked. "And Uther repaid you by choosing you as Arthur's servant," she teased him. "Such a honour, I bet."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, I would have killed to keep that position," he said, frowning. "Actually, I _did _kill people to protect Arthur."

He paused, drowning in guilt, before shaking his head to get our of his reverie. "The dragon was right. My destiny is to protect Arthur, the Once and Future King, and I failed."

Morgana would have cheered him up, had his words not rung a bell in her head. _The Once and Future King? Wasn't it the man destined to reunite Albion and bring magic back? And wasn't he meant to be protected by... by..._

"You're Emrys," she breathed. "You are... _Emrys_."

Swallowing thickly, he admitted "Yes," aware that this revelation for Morgana was probably just as shock-inducing as the actual discovery of his powers. "I'm Emrys."

The witch appeared to be in a catatonic state, eyes wide with fear and eyebrows lifted in surprise, with her mouth hanging opened — she must have looked ridiculous, but she didn't care.

Thoughts and memories swirled through her head like a hurricane, leaving wreckage in their wake.

_He's your destiny, and he is your doom. Destiny, doom. Destiny, doom. Destiny, doom. Destiny, doom, destiny destiny destiny — doom. He is your doom. Emrys. Merlin. Doom... Doom... Doom—_

"Morgana!"

She was hyperventilating. She knew she was hurting herself by getting this agitated but she could do nothing to stop it. _Merlin was Emrys!_

A foot collided hard with her shin and she yelled in pain, subconsciously flinching in pain. She raised her head to see Merlin looking at her worriedly, with nothing but kindness in his eyes and for a moment she felt about to throw up.

How could Merlin, the only one who had managed to gain her trust once again, be the cause of her destruction?

"I need... _Time_," she choked out, still breathing unevenly. For now, I'll ask you to stay away from me."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest when a sliding sound broke through the stillness of the place. Bright light cascaded over them — they were used to receiving only a limited quantity of sunshine through a hole in the stone that kept the well serrated.

Aithusa woke up at the noise and whimpered, scared — even she knew what was to come. Morgana trembled in fear and vainly struggled against her restraints.

Call it instinct or call it magic, somehow Merlin had a feeling that, this time, the questioning would be different. Worse.

* * *

**TBC.**

* * *

**Spells:**

"Gestillan" — imperative form, it means "Be still".


End file.
